OOC: It's just a bit of banter, Blek! 
It's a bright and sunny but bitterly cold January day in whichever city we find ourselves. The area we're in will be familiar to viewers of the now defunct Caged Evolution Wrestling and Proving Grounds. The streets are deserted, whether that's a result of the brass monkey weather or the fact that you're likely to get knifed in the face for tree fiddy is anyone's guess.
The mystery camera crew comes to a stop outside a near-derelict building, the one that houses the gym used by former CEW and PG wrestler, Adam Nedman. Upon entering, they see shouting at and questioning the parentage of a couple of young men. It would appear that Nedman has indeed hung up his boots and tights and started training the next generation of professional wrestlers. Obviously they are in kind and nurturing hands.
The session is interrupted by the wall phone ringing. Nedman collects the handset and walks back over, making full use of the extremely long cord, to further demean his students.
Adam Nedman: "Hello."
Whoever sent this camera crew along clearly hasn't skimped on equipment as the microphone picks up the voice on the other end of the telephone line as clear as crystal, it's Nedman's mentor, Alf Nelson.
Alf Nelson: "How are those lads I sent you?"
Adam Nedman: "I have two words for you, old man. Chocolate teapot."
Alf Nelson: "Ah, too bad. Anyway, I showed all your paperwork to old Amos down at The Drunken Duck and the news is as you thought. If you want to continue competing, you have to do it with a promotion under the CEW banner, which means your only option is Underground."
Nedman sighs.
Alf Nelson: "It's not that bad. They've made some big signings in the last few months."
Adam Nedman: "It's not the people, Alf. I don't think I'd ever be able to take myself seriously again if I had to fight someone for the Snowglobe of Dreams."
Alf Nelson: "Aye, it does sound like they let an eight year old girl name their titles. So that leaves you with either retirement or..."
Adam Nedman: "Or what? I thought Underground or retirement were my only options."
Alf Nelson: "Contractually, they are, but according to old Amos, you could always buy your way out of the contract. But without a specific clause, you could be held to ransom."
Adam Nedman: "So I would need to find somebody with more money than sense..."
As if right on cue...
It's a bright and sunny but bitterly cold January day in whichever city we find ourselves. The area we're in will be familiar to viewers of the now defunct Caged Evolution Wrestling and Proving Grounds. The streets are deserted, whether that's a result of the brass monkey weather or the fact that you're likely to get knifed in the face for tree fiddy is anyone's guess.
The mystery camera crew comes to a stop outside a near-derelict building, the one that houses the gym used by former CEW and PG wrestler, Adam Nedman. Upon entering, they see shouting at and questioning the parentage of a couple of young men. It would appear that Nedman has indeed hung up his boots and tights and started training the next generation of professional wrestlers. Obviously they are in kind and nurturing hands.
The session is interrupted by the wall phone ringing. Nedman collects the handset and walks back over, making full use of the extremely long cord, to further demean his students.
Adam Nedman: "Hello."
Whoever sent this camera crew along clearly hasn't skimped on equipment as the microphone picks up the voice on the other end of the telephone line as clear as crystal, it's Nedman's mentor, Alf Nelson.
Alf Nelson: "How are those lads I sent you?"
Adam Nedman: "I have two words for you, old man. Chocolate teapot."
Alf Nelson: "Ah, too bad. Anyway, I showed all your paperwork to old Amos down at The Drunken Duck and the news is as you thought. If you want to continue competing, you have to do it with a promotion under the CEW banner, which means your only option is Underground."
Nedman sighs.
Alf Nelson: "It's not that bad. They've made some big signings in the last few months."
Adam Nedman: "It's not the people, Alf. I don't think I'd ever be able to take myself seriously again if I had to fight someone for the Snowglobe of Dreams."
Alf Nelson: "Aye, it does sound like they let an eight year old girl name their titles. So that leaves you with either retirement or..."
Adam Nedman: "Or what? I thought Underground or retirement were my only options."
Alf Nelson: "Contractually, they are, but according to old Amos, you could always buy your way out of the contract. But without a specific clause, you could be held to ransom."
Adam Nedman: "So I would need to find somebody with more money than sense..."
As if right on cue...
